Look, I know itâs not really ending. I know a lot of us will still be here years after the fact, writing and drawing and gushing over this dumb, frustrating, gorgeous piece of television. Itâs not that.
Itâs that I have run through crowded metro stations to be home in time for this show. Iâve left my bike in the rain in my haste to liveblog, and after the credits rolled, I wrote an episode coda. Itâs that this show had a habit of finding usâthe lost, the scared, the brokenâand giving us the strength to pull ourselves out of our own personal hells. It became a tether. It grounded us. Introduced us to our friends, our partners, our found families.Â
Because the story resonated; there is something so powerful about angels dressed like tax accountants, standing under street lamps on the side of a highwayâthe voice is almost out of minutes. There is something so powerful about an angel choosing rebellion because of one human man. Our heroes sleep in cheap motels and eat shitty gas station food. Theyâve lived out of their car. Theyâve struggled with loneliness and self-loathing and addiction. Theyâre real people. Regular people. And thereâs something so powerful about humans fighting for the right to choose.
What began as a story of two brothers and has evolved into one of family and love. Itâs become an acknowledgement (an appreciation, a celebration) of myself and my community the likes of which has never happened in television. Just as the show changed us, we have changed it.Â
So⌠yeah. When I say Iâm upset itâs over, Iâm not referring to what I know will continue. Iâm mourning the fact that this is it. The storyâs over.
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